Like the last few flakes of snow after a winter storm thoughts of Christmas are still drifting through my mind, Lord. So many childhood memory-drifts piled up in my heart. One of those memories is of Daddy taking such pride in choosing the perfect tree. No one else could do it. No one could even accompany him when it was time to buy THE TREE. He'd drive off in his old blue pick-up truck and be gone for hours. That was HIS contribution to Christmas.
Then he'd take such care in making sure it stood perfectly straight in the corner of the room. He'd secure the rickety tree stand to the floor with tiny nails, and secure that tree to the corner of the two walls with a cord and another nail. No chance that THE TREE could fall over.
It had to be perfect.
You did the same thing, didn't You? My Heavenly Daddy chose the perfect tree for Your perfect Son. But Jesus didn't hang on a cheerful evergreen. He wasn't surrounded by tinsel & lights & hand blown glass. He hung on a despised, blood-stained, ugly cross to die in physical agony & public humiliation. For me and millions of people like me.
The perfect tree for His sacrifice. The perfect tree to bridge the chasm between Your holiness & my filthy sinfulness. The perfect tree stained with His perfect blood that washes away our sins.
If only we come to Him realizing & acknowledging our pathetic helplessness to save ourselves.
If only we ask Him to come into our lives & rescue us from our sinful nature that will, otherwise, drag us down into an eternal pit.
If only we surrender our puny efforts to fix ourselves & let Him do the fixing for us.
If only people would look to that perfect tree instead of to themselves & their own efforts..
If only they would accept My perfect Son as their Savior...
They would surely be saved perfectly & eternally.